


The Liberating Power of Gallagher Parties and Tying Knots

by fionaclare



Series: The Healing of Incomplete Injuries [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Emotions!, Family Planning, Ian really wants a kid and Mickey will make sure it happens, M/M, Mickey and Ian being dads, Paraplegic Mickey, Parenting Insecurities, Smut, Wheelchairs, but also domestic fluff, but not loads bc parenting, even if mickeys idea of having a kid is being a drunk uncle, society being a dick to disabled people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23077729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fionaclare/pseuds/fionaclare
Summary: “We’re fucking married, man.” He took a swig of the vodka and burped.Ian laughed. “You’re my husband now.” He looked up at Mickey and his eyes softened. His drunken mind focused on the man above him.His Mickey. His. He wanted everything with him. Everything. Ideas that had swarmed in his head, unsaid for months finally came to surface with the help of his alcoholic fuelled bravery.“Mick,” he said softly. Mickey looked down at him, eyes glazed and face flushed. “I want to start a family with you.”Mickeys thoughts sobered slightly at those words, and the first thought to come through his head wasfuck, this is it, this is what makes everything go to shit.or, newly married ian wanting to start a family, mickey not believing he can be a parent because of his paraplegia, and a cute baby
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: The Healing of Incomplete Injuries [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652974
Comments: 30
Kudos: 157





	1. Engaged Sex and Dave the Mailman

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So this is the second part of a series and I definitely recommend reading the first one before this for context and all that. Its only 12k words so it won't take too long :) 
> 
> Comments are much appreciated and fuel my desire to write this thing! I hope you enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beta for this work is [Lydia!](https://twitter.com/chrrygallaghers). 
> 
> Please let me know your what you think! I hope you enjoy :)

They were celebrating something. 

This, Mickey was sure of, as he wheeled himself from the kitchen to the living room of the Gallagher house. He placed himself in the alcove under the stairs and faced the ratty old couch that seated Lip and Tami with baby Fred between them. The kid was playing with building blocks and the couple had _giddy_ smiles on their faces as if the infant completed them. He tried not to stare at them too much – his expression was often mistaken for disdain or something similar. He just didn’t know how to feel about the whole thing. _Family_. Ian and he had been together for five years. They still had their half-decent apartment, Millie, their legitimate paying jobs. Everything was good. He would sometimes think of what they had as being a family, but seeing it fulfilled in the traditional sense right before his eyes made him question if it was less of a family but a mismatched life they had built together. 

“Here,” an open beer was thrust in front of him. He looked up to his left and saw Ian standing there with a grin. 

“What are we celebrating?” he took a swig of his beer.

“What do you mean?” his boyfriend – or _partner_ – as Ian referred to him to his co-workers, questioned. He had a glint in his eyes that unsettled Mickey, but he shrugged it off. 

“I mean _everyone’s_ here. Fuck even your runaway sister managed to show up,” he gestured to Fiona in the kitchen with Kev and Vee, her head was thrown back in a laugh as she bought a can of beer to her lips and then set it back down on the kitchen counter. Debbie was chasing Franny through the house as Carl sat at the table and rolled weed. Liam was sitting on the floor in front of the TV doing homework. 

“It’s not fucking Thanksgiving, so what are we doing here? We could be home with Millie right now.” It's not that he didn’t like the Gallaghers, he did. They just weren’t _his family._ They were Ian’s. He was an honorary in-law and that’s all he would ever be. He wasn’t a Gallagher, he was a lone Milkovich whose family had scattered years before. _Ian_ was his, however, and their apartment and Millie. Mickey knew right at that moment, as he swallowed another mouthful of beer, that he would much rather be lying in bed with the redhead with their cat at the end of the bed watching reruns of _House Hunters_ then sitting at the bottom of the stairwell at some lousy attempt at a gathering. _Even the beer is shit._

“Just admit it, Mick, you love that cat. As much as you hate her for _interrupting_ us all the time. You love her.” Ian laughed.

Mickey stayed silent and quickly chugged the rest of the beer before he threw the empty can towards the pile that had accumulated near the door. 

“You really want to know what we're celebrating?” Ian asked, a lift to his voice. 

“Yes _shithead_ _,_ I want to know why I am wasting a Friday night here of all fucking places,” Mickey smirked up at Ian. 

“Our engagement.” 

Mickey was silent. 

“Our. Fucking. _What_?”

Before Mickey could start to yell at his boyfriend, his crafted responses ranging from _you planned a fucking engagement party before you even proposed_ and _how in the fuck did you know I would say yes,_ said boyfriend suddenly moved in front of him and got down on one knee. _Had he rehearsed this fucking shit?_ They were at eye level, which Mickey secretly loved. Sometimes Ian would demand he help Mickey put on certain shoes and tie his laces for him. Other times they would lie in bed and face each other, talk shit about work, what groceries they had to buy on their next run, and stupid things Millie did that day. In those moments, Mickey forgot about his legs. He imagined he was just a guy with his boyfriend and Ian was the same. Not a paraplegic gay man with an able-bodied boyfriend. They were a _normal_ couple, nothing more and nothing less. 

“Mick,” Ian pulled a velvet box out of his jacket pocket. Ian’s family had stopped the party to watch them. Some shitty party music was playing in the background and Frank was screaming outside at the neighbour’s dog about tax refunds. Mickey tried not to get flustered over the multiple gazes on him. He wasn’t a huge fan of public displays of affection. Kisses and hugs, holding hands, he was fine with, as long as there weren't many people around them. They still lived in the South Side. But a fucking _engagement_ in front of _a loving family_ was a little out of his comfort zone. He tried not to think too much about this, how people he had known for years had the ability to make him uncomfortable during a moment that was supposed to be one of the happiest of his life. He had unknowingly tuned out for the first half of Ian’s speech (which, knowing Ian was probably full of anecdotes about their teenage love and finding each other again) thinking _holy fucking shit he is proposing_ , _what the fuck am I going to say. Fuck. Shit. He has a ring, am I supposed to have a ring for him? How does this shit even work?_

“…I love you and the life we have built together. I love you, Mickey Milkovich, I love your body even when you don’t. I love how you love our pet but won't admit it. I want to keep loving you, forever. Will you marry me?”

**_Both of them realised as the van swerved suddenly and Iggy yelled out_ ** **'sorry guys** **_' before the car picked up acceleration again, that everything they had, that they were, that they could have been, was now over_ **

**_After every blunt he rolled he told himself to forget about Mickey Milkovich, and by the time he reached the rusted gate of his family home, high on a feeling of weightlessness and anger, he vowed to never fall in love with someone ever again._ ** **They only break your heart anyway.**

**_Sometimes memories of Ian would return, and if he smoked a little more or helped himself to another bottle during those moments, nobody questioned it._ **

**They looked at each other for a moment, daring the other to say something.** **_I hate you_ ** **, Mickey thought, then,** **_I love you even after all this time, I wish I could have told you then_ ** **.**

**_“I don’t want to be your caretaker. I know you can look after yourself. I want to be your partner,” Ian turned to look at him. “If you want that too.”_ **

**_A mismatched life they had built together._ **

Ian was looking at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. Mickey leaned forward and grabbed his hand holding the ring box and tugged his boyfriend towards him. The box dropped to the floor. He pressed his lips to Ian’s and placed a hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer, _closer_ , to him. Ian cupped the sides of his face and kissed back. The Gallaghers around them whooped and cheered. 

“You haven’t given me an answer,” Ian mumbled into his lips. One of Ian's hands fell to his neck where he rubbed his fingers along the curve of Mickey's jaw. Mickey huffed out a laugh and pulled Ian in for a kiss once more. 

“Yeah shithead, I’ll marry you.” 

*

Tattooed fingers pulled against the sheets of their bed as Ian pounded into him. “ _Fuck_ right there,” Mickey groaned. He was on his back. Ian’s hands gripped his legs as he hooked them around his waist. Mickey arched his back slightly and shivered as the man above him hit his prostate and _kept going_. Ian sped up and began jerking off his leaking dick. “I’m gonna come,” Mickey whined, and after a number of well-aimed thrusts and twists of Ian’s hand, his mind whited out as he orgasmed around Ian’s length. Ian came in spurts soon after. Panting, he gently moved Mickey’s legs back down on the bed and moved up the bed to lie beside his fiancé.

“Fuck off,” Mickey mumbled into his pillow. “Too hot for this cuddling shit.” 

“Engaged sex hits different doesn’t it?” Ian ignored his complaint and moved on his side while throwing an arm around his boyfriend. 

“If you mean you suddenly have a piece of metal to look at while you’re fucking into me, then yeah sure, it _hits different_ ,” Mickey snickered. 

“I love you.” Ian leant upwards to kiss him. He had been saying it a lot lately. Mickey was sort of enjoying it.

“Love you too,” Mickey grinned. Then, with an afterthought, he added, “wanna go again?” 

The mattress squeaked as Mickey was flipped onto his front. His laugh turned into a high pitched moan as Ian’s fingers and tongue slowly slipped into him. _Yeah_ , he thought as a wave of pleasure crashed over him. Mickey watched his engagement ring glint in the morning light as his fingers tightened against their sheets in anticipation, _maybe engaged sex does hit different._

*

“Hey!” Ian closed the door to their apartment behind him. “Got the mail! Dave said they dispatched ours through him again so he just gave it to me at the station.” 

Mickey contained his desire to throw the knife he was using to cut the carrots up for their dinner into the _fucking wall_. Fucking Dave. There were times being Ian’s partner, that he had to deal with other men – or women – flirting with him. Sometimes it was when Mickey was right next to him, many assumed that Ian was his carer or some support guy until Mickey would fix them with a glare and tell them that he and _his fiancé_ had errands (that did not exist) to run. He dealt with those sorts of people most of the time with an appropriate level of anger afterwards, which Ian would fuck out of him later in the day once they reached the solitude of their apartment. But _fucking Dave_. 

Dave was a mailman. Mickey had never met Dave, but he had sure heard a lot about him for a man that was only supposed to chuck paper through a slot and move on to the next letterbox. Mickey was sure the terms _talk with the recipients of said mail_ wasn’t a part of his job description. Two months ago Dave had taken an extra shift which includedtheir apartment building. Fate had decided for Ian to be downstairs ready to leave for work when Dave got off his bike to begin distributing the mail between the letterboxes for the various apartments. The mailman saw Ian and started a conversation, which led to Ian revealing their apartment number and the fact he worked at the ambulance station on Halsted Street. That was all Dave needed. 

Consistently, for _two fucking months_. Their mail had been ‘dispatched’ incorrectly, always coincidentally along Dave’s route which did, in fact, cover the station. Dave would come into the station and _personally_ give Ian their mail. Mickey’s desire for murder had never been so high. 

“Oh yeah?” Mickey harshly cut another carrot in half as Ian joined him in the kitchen. 

Ian sighed. “Not again Mick…” 

Mickey turned to his fiancé with a glare. “I swear to god Ian if our mail gets misplaced one more tim-”

His threats were ceased as Ian leant leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. A freckled hand reached in front of him to grab the knife. “I told him I was engaged today. That I had a _fiancé_ who would be real excited that his package had arrived. He left. He won’t be coming back.” 

Mickey groaned and let Ian take over cutting the carrots. He wheeled backwards so Ian could slip in his place. “You could have told him _two fucking months ago_ Ian. Save him from disappointment and me from wanting to kill the guy.” 

Ian looked up as if to speculate and let out a laugh. “Nope. I liked watching you get jealous over a _mailman_ who I hardly talked to. It was cute.” 

Mickey grumbled. “I’m not cute, asshole.” 

“Whatever you say,” Ian hummed. He scraped the carrots from the chopping board into the stew Mickey had been making. 

“We need to talk about the wedding,” Ian said. Mickey thought that maybe he could pretend to be surprised, but it was inevitable. They had been engaged for four months, and they hadn’t really discussed what to do about _it_. ‘It’ in this case, being the act of actually getting married. 

The pot of stew was left to simmer and Ian turned around to face his fiancé. “I wanna marry you Mick. I’m done waiting. I want to be husbands. Sick of calling you my fiancé when I want to call you my husband instead.” 

Mickey looked down at his hands. He wanted to tell Ian he wanted the same thing. _He did_. He was sick of the other counsellors asking if he had finally tied the knot. Or when the next ring was going to be on his finger. He loved Ian, but old thoughts of inadequacy never really left him. Ian wanted to tie himself to Mickey _forever_. The idea that someone could look past all the hospital check-ups, the occasional depression and phantom spasms, the fact that he _couldn’t fucking walk_. It was both amazing and scary as shit. He sometimes felt as if he were in a dream, that Terry had actually killed him after the accident and he was living out some twisted form of heaven. Ian always said that Mickey deserved the world, but what did Ian deserve? _Certainly not a broken man, living in a small apartment with a three-legged cat_. He quickly shook those thoughts away. **_Ian was his_** _, and he was Ian’s._

“I don’t want a ceremony,” he decided. “I just want us. No family or shit, we can party with them after. Just us, like it’s always been.” 

The smile Ian sent him relaxed his nerves tenfold. He was worried Ian would want a large ceremony with his whole family plus the neighbourhood in attendance. 

“Just us.” Ian agreed. He took out two bowls and distributed some of the stew into each. “Just us, the courthouse, and a Gallagher party afterwards. Knowing our luck, something will go to shit.” 

“Oh, most fucking definitely.” Mickey laughed. 

*

They got married a week later. It was a simple ceremony; they signed the documents and said the standard vows and exchanged rings. It was when they exited the courthouse, Mickey’s hand wrapped around Ian’s that was pushing his chair, as _husbands,_ that the elation of _holy fucking shit_ they were now married set in. 

Ian hadn’t told his family, but they had guessed when he told them to prepare for a party that night and stock up on the alcohol. The newlyweds came through the front door of the Gallagher home with tipsy grins. They had pre drunk on the L ride over to Wallace Street. Franny and Liam were put on the floor in front of the TV as the music started and bottles of vodka were cracked open. Fred was with Tami’s family for the night. Fiona didn’t make it this time with the short notice. Debbie, Tami, Kev and Vee drunkenly danced to _Shut Up and Dance with Me_ while Carl and Lip snuck out the back to smoke some weed. Mickey had at some point moved himself onto the couch and was sporting a half-empty bottle of vodka. He was planning on finishing it by the end of the night. Ian’s head was in his lap. He stroked his fingers through his husband's red strands, his face contorted into a drunken grin as he looked down. 

“We’re fucking married, man.” He took a swig of the vodka and burped. 

Ian laughed. “You’re my husband now.” He looked up at Mickey and his eyes softened. His drunken mind focused on the man above him. _His Mickey. His_. He wanted everything with him. Everything. Ideas that had swarmed in his head, unsaid for months finally came to surface with the help of his alcoholic fuelled bravery. 

“Mick,” he said softly. Mickey looked down at him, eyes glazed and face flushed. “I want to start a family with you.” 

Mickeys thoughts sobered slightly at those words, and the first thought to come through his head was _fuck, this is it_ , this is what makes everything go to shit. 

  
  



	2. Drying Ink and Age-Old Biases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the last chapter was amazing! My lovely beta made this edit to I quote 'visualise this fic' and I hope you appreciate. 
> 
> All comments and kudos are appreciated and make my day :)

For the fourth night that week, Ian sat on the couch next to Mickey with their laptop illuminating his face as he alternated between typing furiously then scrolling. 

Restraining himself from snapping, Mickey changed the TV program from some nature documentary to _Say Yes To The Dress._ He loved his husband, he really did, but _holy fuck_ it would have been nice to spend a night with him without the constant research into adoption, surrogacy, fostering, or some other roundabout way to get a kid. 

“Ian,” he attempted to say in a pleasant tone, but he was sure it came out grating. 

“Yeah, Mick - actually I looked into adoption today. It’s super expensive, like 40k expensive. We don't really have that kind of money, at least not right now. I thought we could go the fostering route instead? Like we talked about? Get the hang of it and when we are given a kid who we can feasibly adopt we do? I talked to this woman on the phone today an-” 

“Ian,” Mickey snapped. “Can we please not talk about this right now? I honestly just want to watch some chicks picking awful dresses and then have you fuck me into the mattress before bed. No more talk about babies and shit. Not tonight.” 

Ian slowly closed the laptop and turned towards him. “Sorry.” He put the laptop on the table in front of them and shuffled closer to Mickey so his arm was thrown over the back of the couch and rested on his shoulder. “I just really want this, you know?” 

Actually, he didn't know. Unlike his husband, Mickey held little desire for children. Call it trauma from an emotional childhood or a disposition for care towards another living human who wasn't Ian, Mickey had never thought about kids. Not before the accident and _certainly_ not after. A lot of things were taken from him when he got shot, and one of them was the belief that he would make a good dad. _Who would want a parent that couldn't even walk, that couldn't ride a bike with you? Who couldn’t play football at the park or drive you to school?_

“Yeah,” Mickey responded, “I know.” 

Ian grinned at him. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I talked with someone at DCFS today. They said they would mail the application to become foster parents in a few days. After that we just have to do this training thing and have home checks and stuff. But after that, we can foster. It’s actually going to happen Mick.” 

It's not that this is completely out of the blue. They had been discussing this constantly in the five months since their marriage. To adopt or to foster, or to even inseminate. There were pros to all but also cons, which Mickey would stress. He had been open to _talking_ about the prospect of children with Ian, but them actually making a decision hadn’t arisen, until now. 

“Are you sure you want to do this _now_? We can just wait a couple of years, have enough money to adopt. Fostering means we may have kids in and out of here, their parents are still in the picture, you want that?” Ian bit his lip and nodded. 

“I want to foster. There are a lot of shitty ones out there and we can be a _good_ one. We can get a kid out of a shit situation, and hopefully end up adopting them. I want to do this with you, Mick, we’re going to be great dads.” 

Mickey tried not to freak out at the term _dad_ so instead turned towards his husband and lifted his lips into a smirk. “Fuck yeah we will.” 

* 

The application arrived in the mail two days later. Ian had picked it up from the mailbox and the end of his shift and practically sprinted down the hallway to tell Mickey. He laid them out on their small dining room table and shuffled through a few of their drawers to find a pen. Mickey was cooking dinner and tried to stop his heart from racing and hands from shaking as he watched Ian begin to fill out the application. _It_ _’_ _s happening. It_ _’_ _s fine. This is what Ian wants._

After putting their dinner in the oven and setting the timer, he wheeled himself out of the kitchen and placed himself across the table from Ian. 

“I have filled out all your details, just need your signature and it’s done!” Ian dropped the pen against the pile of papers and leaned back into his chair, his eyes met Mickeys and grew soft. “I love you, Mick.” 

Mickey looked up at Ian’s excited expression. He couldn't take this away from his husband, he had already eliminated the prospect of an able-bodied partner. He knew, deep down, that he wasn't signing the papers for the right reasons. He was doing it for Ian, not himself or _them_. Realistically, he should be as excited as Ian. They should be laughing or crying into each other’s arms or some shit, he shouldn't feel this pressure within them. This undeniable feeling of _not being fucking ready for children, and not knowing if he ever would be._

“I love you too idiot.” 

Moments later, the ink of his signature was drying against the papers. He had faked a lot of shit in his life, and his heart dropped as he realised he was faking the happy expression he sent his husband. 

* 

Surprisingly, their application was accepted. 

Included was a criminal background check for both of them, and Mickey was secretly worried that his stints in juvie as a minor would sway their approval. They checked their finances, which were decent enough on an EMT and counsellor’s salary. They were told the next step was a home and social assessment. 

The woman's name was Melinda. She came into their apartment with a clipboard and a frown. Ian attempted to play nice with her the minute she stepped through their door, but she was having none of it. Mickey sat back in his chair and crossed his arms with a frown as the woman prowled around their space. He noticed her look at him a few times, a look in her eye that made him think most of the negatives she was writing on that clipboard of hers were about him. 

For the past week, they had been preparing the apartment for the assessment. They had gone through the DCFS checklist and had spent days ensuring the apartment fit every one of its expectations. Their office had been converted into a baby's room. All their knives, medications and cleaning products were locked away. The power outlets were tamper-proof and the cat had vet checkups. They had a fire evacuation plan and new smoke alarms installed. Ian had been stressed that they had missed something that would ruin the inspection, Mickey secretly thought that his disability and clawed cat they harboured had more of a chance of ruining it than the cleanliness of their kitchen floor. 

She sat down with them for an hour and asked them _everything_. How long they had been together. The strength of their relationship. The temperament of the cat. Why they wanted to foster. Their hesitations about fostering. What did they expect from taking on other peoples kids? Any family issues or trauma? How often they worked, would they cut down their hours for a baby? Where did they see themselves in ten years? Mickey had never undergone so much introspection in his life. 

Melinda pushed her glasses up. “So you two are married, yes?” 

“Sure are,” Mickey said. Ian had contributed enough, and he didn’t want the woman to think he was incompetent at holding a conversation. He hoped she didn’t see his distance from the process, his efforts to try but internal desire to run away from it all. _She probably sees it_ , Mickey thought, _it’s her job._

“Is he also your carer?” she continued. Mickey tried not to groan. 

“No,” he said through his teeth. “He is my partner. I'm capable of caring for myself. We act like any other partnership, I just can't use my legs.” 

She hummed. “Ok, so if you were alone and the baby were to fall from its crib, would you be able to pick it up and place it correctly back in the crib?”

Mickey rubbed his hand along the back of its neck. “I can bend and lean forward and I would be able to pick it up and support it. Ian made sure to get a crib that was lower to the ground so I would be able to reach.” 

Melinda sniffed, then wrote something on her clipboard. “If Ian were not home, do you think you would be prepared to take care of the child alone? Do your work schedules mean this will often be the case?” 

Ian was watching the exchange from behind Mickey, he walked up and placed his hands along the top of Mickey's shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. 

“We’re not often home without each other. If we are apart we’re at work. He's the EMT so the kid would be with me at the shelter where I work. He doesn’t work weekends or nights often, but if I were alone I would be able to take care of the kid. We have all the emergency numbers written near the phone if anything bad were to happen.” 

He knew it was what Melinda _wanted_ to hear. But the thought of being left alone with a baby scared the shit out of him. What if something did go wrong. Something that could easily be solved with working legs, but his lack of means everything goes to shit? 

Melinda hummed once more and attached her pen to the clipboard. “I think we're done here. Everything seems to be in line with the checklist requirements. Your health screenings and immunization records came back and were good. If you are approved, you do the 27 hours of training, and voila, you’re foster parents.”

Ian went to open the door for her. She turned and looked at Mickey as she shrugged her bag up to her shoulder. “Some words of advice for you guys, I'm certain you will be accepted, but some officials in the system will look down on your condition and may limit your ability to foster. Age-old biases sadly. I'm sure it'll work out for you, but it will be a bit of an uphill battle at times. Good luck.” Melinda closed the door behind her and both men let out a relieved breath. 

“We're nearly there Ian.” Mickey felt the need to reassure his husband. Ian leant down and kissed Mickey, who placed his hand on his husband’s stubble and continued, “I know you made the bed and shit for the inspection, but wanna bang before dinner?” 

Ian grabbed the handles of his chair and spun him towards their bedroom. Mickey laughed as Ian propelled them towards the open door and slammed it shut behind them. Millie, who was previously curled up and asleep on one of their couch cushions, awoke suddenly and looked towards the shut door with a glare. 

*

They completed the 27 hours of training and became official foster parents. The other couples at the training spent a lot of time asking them _how_ they planned to do it with a baby, a _shit ton_ more than they asked anyone else. Mickey tried not to get too mad about that. They were used to it, people prying into their lives and their relationship. They would go home at the end of every session and joke together about the stupid questions they were asked. It distracted Mickey from what was to come, an actual person for them to look after. His coworkers constantly asked him when the process of getting certified was over, and he would avoid giving a definite answer. It wasn’t like the moment they were certified they would be given a child, they wanted a baby preferably, or at least a kid younger than five. Those were in high demand. He knew they would have to wait, and he relished in the time they had left. 

* 

It was a Thursday night when they got the call. Ian had just come home from a late shift and Mickey was heating him up the leftover lasagne from dinner in the microwave. The phone shrilled in the otherwise quiet apartment. Millie ran from her spot on the couch to their bedroom, ears flattened. They had realised after a week of having her that she hated the sound of phones ringing. Ian said it was adorable and Mickey said it was hypocritical for an animal that made an irritating noise to be scared of one. 

Two months had passed since they were approved as foster parents. Melinda was right. They were often skipped in the system as potential fosters for children needing sudden and immediate care and had when they had expressed interest in babies needing care were immediately rejected. 

Mickey was the one who picked up the phone. It was probably one of the Gallaghers, inviting them to a party or needing help with getting out of something. 

“This is Mickey.” He spoke into the receiver. 

“Hi, Mickey! Sorry for the late call, but we have a foster for you. A baby girl. It’s the holiday season so all foster homes are full, you know many parents slip up around this time and DCFS is inundated.” A man's voice spoke through the phone and Mickey’s mind blanked. _It_ _’_ _s happening. It_ _’_ _s actually happening._ “The baby’s parents have skipped town, we think, we have no records of them either. The baby was left in their apartment until a neighbour heard her screaming. Other prospective fosters who wanted a baby aren't interested because of the lack of information we have about the parents and her history. It could be a short stay if the parents come back or a long one maybe. Will you be able to take her?”

Ian was looking at him from the kitchen, with a mouthful of lasagna, in question. He swallowed the food. “Who’s on the phone Mick?” 

Mickey held his finger up to signal for Ian to be quiet. _It could be a short stay. A baby girl. Fuck._

“We’ll take her.” 

  
  



	3. Kitchen Sinks and First Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a parent and doing research for this chapter stressed me out. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta for doing going through this at 1am cos I started to get stressed that I hadn't updated in 8 days.
> 
> Enjoy Mickey and the baby y'all

Her name was Annalise. 

She was small and swaddled in a baby blanket. It had small, faded yellow suns and blue moons on it. The fabric was pilled from use and had various yellow stains splattered across it. The social worker had arrived a little over an hour after the phone call. Ian opened the door and she had been put into his arms. Mickey watched from the living room as Ian’s face lit up and the sight of the baby and he smiled as his husband began cooing at her. The social worker talked with them for a while, but Mickey could tell that Ian was not really listening. So as Ian sat with the baby Mickey responded to most of her standard questions, graciously took the baby formula she had brought for them, and directed her out of their apartment once she grabbed her bag to leave. When the door closed behind the social worker, Ian spoke.

“She's so beautiful Mick.” Ian stared adoringly down at the baby in his lap. “Do you wanna hold her?” 

Mickey didn't. Not right now anyway. He was too concerned about nipping in the bud any feelings Ian was developing for the squirming bundle in his arms. The social worker had sat with them not minutes before and stressed that despite the only record of her birth being her name and _Smith_ as her last name, with only the first names of her parents listed, there was a high chance they may come back within the week, as most parents did, and begin the process of reclaiming her. Mickey thought they were probably on a drug run. He gave it a week as well, he just needed Ian to get on board. Once the parents came back, whoever they were would have to fight DCFS to get her returned to them. That could take months. _But still, she won’t be their baby, no matter how much Ian falls in love with her. DCFS’s main goal is to reunite families no matter how shitty they are, not make new ones._

“Her parents will come back, Ian.” He wheeled himself closer to his husband. “You know that. We're just looking after her until they do.” 

Ian frowned. “You don't know that Mick.” 

“Yes I do,” Mickey said softly. “Please Ian. Don't get attached. We’re just temporary guardians or some shit. I don’t want to see you get hurt when they have to take her back.” 

Ian was silent for a while. “It's going to hurt anyway. Just come and hold her Mick and you’ll see.” 

Mickey swallowed and wheeled himself in front of his husband. He looked at the bundle in his arms. _Annalise_. He didn't know a lot about babies, but he could tell she was practically a newborn. The social worker confirmed this by saying she was a month old before they rattled on about what _not_ to feed her and how to properly hold her. 

“Here.” Ian pulled Annalise away from his lap and while cradling her body, held her out for Mickey to take over. Mickey's arms instinctively shot up to hold her, he didn't want her to fall or anything. His heart pounded against his chest as the weight of her filled his arms. 

“Don't you see it? It'll hurt, Mick. But she will be amazing.” 

He tried not to react to that, and as he looked down at her closed eyes felt her shuffle in his hold, he attempted to make himself _not feel_. She wasn't beautiful. She didn't look amazing in Ian’s arms. She didn’t make his mind surge with ideas of protection and care. _She didn't do any of those things._

Ian gazed down at Mickey and smiled knowingly at him. _They were both fucked._

*

Annalise had been crying for a solid twenty minutes, and Mickey was freaking the _fuck_ out. 

Ian had been called in for a night shift and wouldn't be home until 6 am the next morning. He was usually the one who dealt with this sort of thing. She was four months old now. Mickey had been left with her before, sure, but never really _alone_. She would come with him to work. His coworkers would swarm his desk to get a look at her. He had a fancy stroller that Ian had bought. It connected to the front of his wheelchair like an extension. He could take the carrier in and out of it and disconnect the stroller from his chair once he got to his desk. He liked it, but he secretly couldn't wait until the kid could walk so he wouldn’t have to use it anymore. But when he was at work, he had others around him, people who were parents themselves who could tell him if he was fucking up. With just him and her in the apartment, Mickey felt that everything he did would be _wrong_. 

_Think like Ian, what would he do?_ Annalise was still crying. She was in her crib, her face was flushed and skin hot to the touch. Mickey suspected it was a fever. He had been trying to use the internet for answers but every answer contradicted the next. He didn't know what to do. _Should I call Ian? No, he’s working, it's only a fever. I told him I could do this._ From the corner of his eye, he watched Millie scurry through the partially open door of Ian and his bedroom. _Lucky._

She quieted down for a moment and he took it as an opportunity to lift her out of her crib and hold her to his chest with one arm. With the other, he pushed them the short distance from her room to the kitchen. He let out a stressed sigh. _The sink is large enough_. He turned on the taps and waited for the water to warm. He reached forward, plugged the sink and watched as the waterline grew. When it was high enough he put Annalise inside it and watched as her expression softened slightly as she continued to squirm. _Fuck what am I doing? Are kitchen sinks even safe? Ian would know._ Too scared to consult the internet again, he held her in the water at a slightly awkward angle as his chest was only just above the counter. 

Doubting himself, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed with one hand, ‘is washing your baby in a kitchen sink ok’. The first result that popped up said it was normal, but Mickey scrolled down and opened a few of the Reddit style question and answer blogs for parents. 

**Canadiangirl:** **I never even considered it..I guess because I saw those Oprah shows about how dirty sinks are with higher bacteria counts than toilets**

Oh fuck. 

**Shaunasmum: I don't find it gross if you give it a good clean before washing bubs in, heaps of disinfectant etc**

_Fuck. Did I disinfect it? What was the last thing we put in the sink? Ian cooked chicken last night, maybe she will get salmonella or something? Can babies get salmonella?_

The phone was quickly turned off and shoved back into his pocket. _Can't think about that shit right now._

She began crying again as the water got colder so Mickey moved them from the kitchen and back to her room. He swaddled her in a few more blankets than last time and tugged at the ends of his hair as her crying got louder. 

_Can't go to the pharmacy, it's 11 pm and it's snowing outside. The only one open is ten blocks away. Can't call Ian. She could die! Fuck babies died from fevers, didn’t they? Ian’s gonna kill me._

A knock suddenly sounded from their front door. Instinctively, Mickey’s brain short-circuited to _find the gun or bat_ but Ian had made him get rid of those when they applied to be foster parents. Their peephole was too high for it to be useful for Mickey, so he gave one last glance at Annalises scrunched up crying face, and wheeled himself out of the room and in front of the door. 

“Who is it?!” he had to yell over the sounds of her crying. 

“It's Effie! Miss Keene?” a woman's voice responded. Miss Keene lived across the hall from them and was the one who stockpiled Millie’s food before Mickey even knew about Millie. Mickey pulled open the door and was met with the relaxed and friendly expression of their neighbour despite the screaming cries emanating from the bedroom. 

“I'm not here to complain, only to lend you some baby Advil I keep around for when my daughter leaves my grandkids with me! Triplets! They are only a year old but I'm sure something in there can help.” She passed him a plastic container filled with various baby medicines. “Just give it back to me when she's all better. Have a nice night, Mickey.” She turned to leave. 

“Wait!” she turned back around to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Thanks for this. Do you think you can help me though?” Mickey felt bad asking an old lady for help, but he was desperate, “I don't really know what I’m doing.” 

“Oh Mickey,” she admonished, “none of us did. You have to figure it out on your own,” she went to open the door to her own apartment. “Have a nice night!” she repeated before her door closed shut behind her. _Shit_. 

*

Ian stumbled through the door at 6:25 am the next morning. His thoughts were centred around crawling into bed with his husband and _maybe_ fucking him slowly into the mattress before the baby would wake up. Walking into their room, he saw Mickey wasn't sleeping in their bed and panicked a little. He went towards the shut door of Annalise’s room and pushed it open. 

The scene before him warmed his heart. Mickey was still in his chair and sleeping, slumped uncomfortably forward and against the front of Annelise’s crib. Annalise was swaddled in two thin blankets and Ian noticed how the ventilation was on and warm in the room. An open box of medication was haphazardly opened and half its contents were scattered across the floor. _Fever,_ he guessed. Annalise was sleeping soundly, her skin only slightly flushed after coming down from the worst of it. _She will probably sleep for a few more hours if she was up all night._

Ian rubbed his hands over his eyes and walked towards his sleeping husband. He grabbed the handrails on the back of his chair and pushed him out of her room and towards theirs. Aligning the chair next to Mickey's side of the bed and pulling the sheets back, he lifted Mickey up with a grunt and put him on the bed. He climbed into his side of the mattress just when Mickey was stirring awake. 

“Hmm, Ian?” Mickey looked at him blankly. Then his eyes shot open in alarm. “Fuck! Anna. She had a fever. I tried to bring it down but I don't know if it works. Have you checked on her? Is she ok? I must've fallen asleep, don't remember coming to bed though.” His eyes closed slowly as he fought off sleep. “So fuckin tired.” 

Ian ran his hands through his husband's hair before he said softly, “It's ok, Mick. She's sleeping. Fever is down. You did well.” He threw the sheets over them and curled around Mickey's sleeping form. Just as he was about to drift off himself, he heard the telltale ‘thump’ of Millie coming out from under the bed with a soft meow and jumping onto the bed. Her favourite spot was Mickey’s legs, where she curled up and slept like their owner. Ian smiled, _I love this family._

Annalise woke up crying for breakfast forty minutes later.

*

She was ten months old when she spoke for the first time. 

Mickey was on the floor, back resting against the couch as Annalise crawled around in front of him. They had borrowed some toys from Lip and Tami that Fred no longer cared for, which were scattered around the floor of their living room. She picked up a red building block with her chubby hands and attempted to toss it towards Mickey with a throw that made it land closer to her than him. 

“Good try, squirt,” Mickey said encouragingly. “Do it again.” Ian would call it his _baby voice,_ the way he softened his words to speak to her. Mickey would promptly tell his husband that if he said that again he would rip his fucking throat out. He would still feel the kiss of Ian’s lips on the top of his head before he would walk away laughing. 

Her hair had grown into a dark brown. Ian was pleased with it, _she doesn't look too much like you or me, Mick! She's right in the middle._ Mickey wanted to comment that _of course she fucking doesn’t shes not biologically ours in any way_ but the gleeful look on Ian’s face stopped him, as well as the fact that they had arranged for Lip and Tami to take her that night so they could have some time _alone_. Mickey wasn't going to jeopardize that. 

Annalise picked up another building block, smaller this time and green, before she attempted once more to throw it towards Mickey. It rolled and hit the inside of his leg. Mickey grinned. “You did it! Come ‘ere.” He reached his arms out and beckoned her forward. She crawled closer until she was between his spread-out legs. Around a month ago she had started walking, but they had noticed that she preferred to alternate between that and crawling. She shuffled her legs a bit and went to stand up. Mickey grabbed her arms to steady her and his heart warmed as her head reached the top of his chest, she shrugged his hands away from her arms and put her tiny hands against his chest as a way to steady herself. 

“Getting good at that, aren't ya?” he mumbled as he ran his hand across the top of her head. 

“Dada!” she blurted. 

Mickey's heart stopped. 

“Dada!” she repeated with a dopey smile before she dropped down to the floor again and slumped herself over the middle of Mickey's left leg. She loved how they never moved out of her way, were always the best place to lean against and were fun to throw toys across as if they were a barrier preventing them from getting to the other side - the other side being a strip of carpet. 

Ian came stumbling out of the kitchen. 

“Did you hear that, Mick?!” he said, an excited tone filling the room. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said hollowly. Ian frowned. He noticed Annalise was growing tired against Mickey's leg. He picked her up and mumbled some things to her like _nap time_ and _aren't you a tired girl!_ as he disappeared into her room. Mickey didn't really pay attention, his gaze was focused on the green block she had thrown at him.

Reality was hitting him. 

_She's not our kid. This is temporary. Parents are coming back, wherever the fuck they are. I'm not her dad. She doesn't know any better. Shit. Fuck._

Ian exited Annalise’s room to find Mickey with his head in his hands in the living room. When Mickey pulled his hands away from his face, Ian tried not to react to the traces of tears left behind. 

He came closer and knelt before his husband, he grabbed his hands. “Mick, what's going on? Why were you-why were you crying?”

Mickey was silent for a moment before he spoke, voice hardened and emotionless. “What the fuck are we doing, Ian?” 

“What do you mean?” Ian’s eyes widened in surprise. 

“I mean what the _fuck_ are we doing? There is a kid in that room. It's been ten _months_. Parents haven’t come back. Every day I try and detach myself from the whole thing and say she’s not mine but it’s getting _harder_. She called me dada just then and I had to stop myself from believing it. I want her to be ours, Ian, but I'm worried the second I let that happen that the parents will return and want her back. I know you said fostering would be easier, that adoption was too expensive, but _fuck_ I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” 

“You want to give her back to DCFS? That’s what you’re saying?” 

“What? Fuck no, I just, I don’t know.” Mickey tugged at his hair in frustration. “Of course we’re not giving her back to DCFS. I'm just frustrated.” 

Ian grabbed Mickey's hands from his head and brought them back down to his lap, his fingers rubbed circles over his knuckles. “We have two more months before they terminate any parental rights her parents had. After that, we can apply to adopt her. Two more months. We apply and wait. Then she will be _ours_.”

“What if they come back while we’re applyin-”

“They won't.” 

The corners of Mickey's lips turned upwards in a small smile. “Ours huh?” he sniffed. The idea of no longer fearing a social worker coming to their door and saying _her parents are back and seeing reunification_ or _we have found another couple willing to take her, they have a house and a backyard as well!_ was incredibly appealing. 

“It was really cute when she called you dada today,” Ian said, hoping to distract his husband from their prior conversation. 

Mickey's face flushed a little and he leaned forward to kiss Ian. “You're just jealous she didn’t call you _da_ first or something. Know you had bets at the station on what it was gonna be.” 

“It’s fine,” Ian said breezily, “she walked for me first anyway.” 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Mickey smirked. “But as of now, I’m dada. You are ‘unnamed’.” 

Ian huffed but leant forward and gripped the back of Mickey's head to pull him into a kiss. 

“She will be with us long enough to know our names. To know everything. _Forever_ Mick.” 

“Let’s hope.”

At that moment Mickey felt what Ian must have felt over a year ago, unconditional desire for a family. Now that he had it, he would endure his childhood, his accident, his years without Ian all over again, before he let anyone take it away from him.

  
  



	4. Emergency Contacts and Checkups

When Annalise turned one they decided to send her to daycare. Her desire to walk everywhere instead of crawl became a problem, especially for Mickey whose workplace wasn't appropriate for exploration. The four walls of his office quickly became boring for her, and her tantrums were evidence of that. After a day of trying to talk to troubled teens about their issues with a pouty and crying child, Mickey came home to Ian cooking dinner. 

“It's time to send her to daycare. Can't take her into the office anymore. Ever since that other counsellor went on maternity leave I have had to counsel way more kids.” He watched as Ian drained the spaghetti over the sink and distribute it into two bowls for them. Annalise was on the living room floor taking great delight in how Millie’s tail would _whack_ against her after she touched it. 

“Are you sure Mick? Daycare is expensive...” Ian trailed off. 

“We got the money. I’m sure. It will be good for her. My office is boring for her, she needs to be around other kids her own age.” Ian handed him his plate of spaghetti and they both began to eat while they spoke, they hardly used the little dinner table outside the kitchen anymore, only if Archie and his boyfriend came to visit. But ever since they got Annalise it became a glorified storage area, where they would dump the mail and bags and random things they found around the house that needed to be moved somewhere specific. 

“Ok,” Ian agreed after a while, they had both been lost in thought while quickly finishing dinner. “Do we send her to one near your work or mine?” he took Mickeys empty plate and put it in the sink to be washed. 

“Mine, I think,” Mickey replied. “You have that concrete jungle one near yours. Mines got fake grass. It will probably be more expensive but it beats her being shanked in the yard.” 

“I don't think toddlers shank people, Mick,” Ian laughed. 

The sound of Annalise squealing in delight and Millie meowing frantically filled the apartment. “Fake grass place it is!” Mickey smirked.

* 

The daycare was nice enough. It separated kids by age group so they weren't all lumped together like the one’s Mickey and Ian remembered from their youth. It had a fenced outdoor play area covered in the fake grass Mickey mentioned, with playhouses and sandpits and a small slide. There were toys in boxes and sleeping mats for nap time. She was too young for most of it though. 

They both dropped her off on her first day. It wasn’t a huge fanfare, she was only one and when she saw the pile of toys closest to her, she stumbled towards it and quickly forgot about her parents watching behind her. 

“You must be Ian and Mickey!” the daycare attendant smiled at them from the front desk.

“That's us,” Mickey replied. _Fuck I sound jolly_. 

“Ok great. I see Annalise is settling in on her own over there so ill just get one of you to fill out these forms. Ian, will you be the emergency contact or will it be another family member?” she handed them one clipboard with several papers attached. Ian took it. 

“Mickey’s the emergency contact actually,” Ian answered while he began to fill in their details, not looking up from the papers. 

“Oh,” they both heard her say, which caused Ian to look up from the clipboard and Mickey to pull his gaze from Annalise who was hitting a plastic toy dinosaur on the carpeted ground. “Well - I just assumed it would be more appropriate for you to be the emergency contact.” She was looking at Ian as she said this, but her eyes shifted occasionally to Mickey and his chair. 

“Why would that be?” Ian nearly snapped and Mickey tried not to flinch at his tone. _Fuck not again._ His husband sometimes felt it was his personal duty to defend Mickey against stereotypes and shit, _and it was sometimes hot as fuck_ , but sometimes, like at their daughter’s daycare, it was not the time or place. 

“Ian, don’t-” he tried to interrupt but Ian had already started to respond. 

“Mickey is the emergency contact because he works two blocks away and can be here in less than ten minutes. I don’t have my phone on me during my shifts and he does. I am hardly ever in the area. I bet you don't ask other parents to explain their _reasoning_ behind picking the emergency contact.” Ian was seething. Mickey grabbed ahold of his hand. _Calm down. I love you so much right now. But also calm the fuck down._

The attendant shut up after that. Ian finished filling out the forms and they both went to say goodbye to Annalise for seven hours before Mickey would be coming to pick her up. Ian pulled her up from the ground and bounced her lightly in his arms. She giggled hysterically. 

“Da!” she cried out before her attention was once again on the toys that lay below her. 

“I’ll miss you Anna,” Ian murmured as he kissed the top of her head. He turned to Mickey and put her in his lap. Annalise quickly wrapped her arms around Mickey's neck. 

“Dada,” she mumbled into his shirt. 

Mickey smiled. “Yeah, I'll miss you too squirt.” He grabbed her under the arms and put her back down on the floor. “Hey look at those dinosaurs over there? Wanna play with them?”. Annalise nodded and turned towards the toys, her attention once again taken away. 

It was still early when they exited the daycare, around 8 am. Other parents drove into the small parking lot the daycare had and took their various children from the back seats of their cars. Mickey and Ian stood out the front together. They both don’t have to get to work until nine. 

  
“Wanna get breakfast?” Ian asks. A couple walked past them and the woman looked at Mickey with a frown. Ian glared at her and Mickey could practically feel Ian’s satisfaction as she quickened her pace up the stairs.

Mickey rolled his eyes. He had gotten better at it, the staring thing. Having to take Annalise to work by himself for nearly a year had thickened his skin. In the past, he avoided going on dates with Ian to busy or crowded areas, but he likes to think that he would be ok with it now. _Too bad we have no time for that sort of thing anymore._

“Yeah sure. Got time. That waffle place good?” he began wheeling towards the sidewalk. Ian followed. 

It was only a short walk, but halfway there Mickey demanded _how fucking hungry_ he was and Ian grabbed onto the back handles of his chair and pushed them both forward with a run. They propelled down the sidewalk, both laughing as Ian tried to dodge bumps in the cement, dog walkers and ill-placed trees, all while keeping the wind hitting Mickeys face. _I missed this feeling. Feels like running._ Mickey looked up at Ian’s excited face as they rounded the corner of the waffle shop. He pulled Ian down for a kiss before they entered, all the while hoping he would _understand_ , understand how much he meant. _Thank you for making me feel alive._

* 

Rays of the morning sun danced over the top of their flushed skin. Ian groaned into the back of Mickey's neck and quickly thrust into him. They were both on their sides. Mickeys hand grasped Ians above their heads and curled as his husband brushed against his prostate. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Right there.” 

The only response he got from Ian was slowed thrusts that went _deep_ and a hand against his hip to help him move against his husband’s dick.

“Motherfucker,” Mickey snapped. “Now's not the time to go slow. We have to get Anna up, feed the cat. All that shit. If I don’t come I swear to go-” 

Ian picked up the pace once more and laughed into the back of Mickey's neck. “Don't worry Mick. Workin on it.” 

Ian’s hand moved from Mickey’s hip to his leaking member. He began to stroke it as he quickened his pace into Mickey. Kissing along his husband's neck he groaned. “Come on Mick.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes, then gasped as Ian rubbed over the slit of his dick. “ _Workin on it!”_ He replied sarcastically. 

Focusing, he felt the fullness of Ian inside him. He felt Ian’s hand stroking along his dick, occasionally smearing his pre-come against its head. He felt Ian’s hand curl against his above their heads and his hot breath against his neck. Overcome with _feeling_ he moaned and came with a shout, his walls tightening around Ian. Ian pulled his lips to his and groaned into the kiss, coming inside Mickey with a jerk of his hips. 

They laid there for a moment in a pleasured haze. The baby monitor crackled to life with Annalise crying for her breakfast. 

Mickey huffed and shut his eyes. “Your turn.”

“But I did it yesterday.” 

“Don't give a shit. You weren’t fucked yesterday morning and needing twenty minutes of recovery. Have fun,” Mickey grunted out with his head smashed into the pillow. He tried to relax his body, but he could feel that telltale tightening of his legs. One began to twitch slightly and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain. Ian noticed. 

“Spasms again?” he asked quietly. Annalise was still crying. 

“It's fine,” Mickey said, eyes still shut. “Go deal with her. It’ll pass in a second.” He heard Ian sigh and leave the room. He quickly shuffled onto his back and gripped his shaking leg. “Fuck,” he hissed out. 

* 

“You haven't been to the doctor in a while,” Ian said over breakfast. He was spoon-feeding Annalise oatmeal, which she decided to enjoy this morning. A vision of her whacking the bowl away from her plastic table two mornings ago flashed through Mickey's mind. 

“Been busy,” Mickey retorted. He began to eat some of his own breakfast, yoghurt and fruit that Ian had made for him once he emerged from their bedroom. 

Ian sighed. “I don't want you to forget about your health Mick. I know we have been a bit busy lately. What if… what if somethings getting worse?” his husband was silent for a moment, Annalise chewed on the end of the spoon. Then, quietly, he said, “I don't want to do this without you.” 

Mickeys gaze softened. He put down his empty breakfast bowl and wheeled himself over to where Ian was sitting. Quickly pulling Ians face towards his, they shared a kiss and Mickey grabbed a hold of Ian’s free hand. 

“Don't be an idiot,” Mickey smirked in amusement. “I'm not going to die from a few extra spasms. I’m fine,” he assured. 

Ian didn’t look convinced, his frown only deepened. 

Mickey sighed. 

“I'll try and go today. Leave work early. Happy?” he patted Ian’s knee and wheeled backwards before turning and heading towards the bedroom to finish getting ready. He didn't see the look of relief on Ian’s face, but he could guess it was there. _Idiot worries way too much._

* 

The doctor did her standard checkup of him. She gave him a lecture for not coming to see her for over seven months, and after Mickey promised to make it to his appointments every four, she relaxed. 

She got him onto the examination table to look at his injury. Reassuring him nothing was amiss, she then talked him through some stretching exercises. She said they would help decrease the intensity of the spasms he was getting and hopefully the frequency. 

When she pressed her gloved hands along various parts of his back, and the bullet scar, he inwardly flinched. It felt so _clinical_ to him. He hated going to these checkups, even though he knew they were good for him. Hospitals and checkups reminded him of the accident, of the hopelessness he felt. He had come a long way since then, but walking through the doors of the practitioners each time slipped him into a certain mindset. _Broken. Damaged._

The gloved hands ceased touching his back and the doctor told him the checkup was complete. 

He manoeuvred himself back onto the chair as she finished writing up her notes. 

“You and Ian still fostering?” she hummed, her pen clicked and she put her notes on the table behind her. 

“Yeah,” Mickey thumbed at his bottom lip. “Still got Anna, hoping to adopt her soon.”

She paused. “Stressful?” 

Mickey let out a huff. “You can't imagine. Worry the second the parental rights are gone DCFS is gonna give her to some yuppie straight couple.” 

The doctor was silent for a moment before she sent him a smile. “I wouldn't worry about it, you and Ian seem like great dads,” she paused with a frown, “I was in the foster system as well, back in the early 2000's. I spent most of my time with these two women, they weren't married obviously but they were the best moms I could have ever asked for. They couldn't adopt, that only became legal in 2013. I was constantly sent in and out of their care, and by the time I aged out of the system, it still wasn't legal for them to marry or adopt. I stayed with many other couples who shouldn't have been allowed to care for children. I went back to live with them after I aged out. In 2015 they married and legally adopted me even though I was an adult. One of the best days of my life along with graduating. What I’m trying to say is, just because some don't agree, you are what is best for her. She will remember that. If she’s taken from you, which I doubt, she will have memories and questions of her first year of life when she is older.” She patted him on the shoulder with a flush. “Sorry if that was too much information.”

He swallowed. “No, it's fine.” 

“Well,” she cleared her throat. “Good luck with everything. Do the exercises I showed you and nothing should be amiss in your next checkup what you _will_ attend.” She opened the door for him. He exited the practice and allowed himself to think that everything might end up ok.

* 

“The caseworker called today,” was the first thing Ian said once they placed themselves around the small square table of the Italian restaurant a block away from their apartment. Annalise was in a high chair with a crayon clutched in her fist as she furiously scribbled over a sheet of paper with various cartoon animals printed on it. Mickey smiled fondly as the crayon snapped in her grasp, he quickly handed her another to avoid a tantrum.

“The parental rights have been terminated.” 

Shocked, Mickey turned to look at his husband. His head pounded and his fingers shook. _Fuck it’s finally happening. What does this mean? Can they adopt now? Do they have to come to our home again? Are they already finding another family for her?_

“Dada!” Annalise yelped out. Her crayon had fallen on the floor. Mickey, in a daze, leaned over the side of his chair and picked it up off the ground and put in back in her outstretched hand. 

_I'm going to be a dad._

“So we can adopt her?” Mickey forced out, trying not to let his excitement grow. 

The waiter came and put their dinners in front of them. Annalise let out a cry of excitement as a very small bowl of pasta in a cheese sauce was put in front of her. Ian leaned over to start helping her eat it. Mickey sat back and watched as Annalise, after five swallows, frowned and refused any more. Ian faced Mickey again. 

Ian smiled. “Yeah Mick, we can adopt her.” He held Mickey's hand in the middle of the table. “It'll take a few months, we will have to go before a judge. I’ve already told the caseworker to begin the process. It's happening Mick.” 

“Fuck,” Mickey let out. A woman at a table across from them sneered at him with a pointed look at Annalise. He flipped her off. Annalise giggled when Ian slapped his offending hand down. 

“Were gonna be dads.” Mickey looked into Ian's eyes and tried not to cry in relief.

“We already are. But yeah, we're gonna be dads.”

*

Annalise was eighteen months old when they officially adopted her. They received her updated birth certificate in the mail, cried a little, and went out for dinner again. It was a steak restaurant this time. Its neon-lit slogan ‘family-friendly’ glowed over their heads as they made their way inside. 

After ordering and getting their meals, the waitress came to their table and smiled at Annalise, who was busy blabbering out, “Da!” to Ian as he helped her eat. 

“Aw,” she cooed with a smile. “You guys are such a cute family!” 

Ian smiled at her and sheepishly offered his thanks. Mickey was too busy thinking _fuck, were a family, a legitimate family. She can call me dad without me freaking out that I one day won't be. We can cut her hair without getting approval from DCFS. Enrol her in classes. We can be a real family to her, one that will never fuck off like mine did._ He watched as Ian cleaned up the mess Annalise had made on her mouth.

“Mick?” Ian said across the table with concern. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey breathed out. “Even though I can't do the same shit others can, I’m going to be good for her. Fuck, Terry was able-bodied and he was a piece of shit. I've spent so long worrying that I won't be _enough_ ,” Mickey flushed under his husbands gaze and began to fiddle with the shitty restaurant napkins. _Since when did I get so fucking emotional?_

Ian smiled at him. “You’re more than enough, Mick.”

For the first time since Annalise had come into their lives, Mickey felt prepared for what that meant.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're nearly at the end! I hope you enjoyed this chapter to whoever is still reading :) 
> 
> I'm going to do a bit of shameless (heh) self-promotion here, I wrote a one-shot where Mickey is a witch and Ian needs some magic. Here is the link if you are interested :) https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354578
> 
> I also published the first chapter of a new fic set in 1950's New York if that floats your boat as well :) 
> 
> Any kudos and comments are appreciated! Thanks for reading :)


	5. Graduation and Walking Down the Aisle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end! Thank you for sticking with this story and for the lovely support I have received since I started :) 
> 
> A big thank you to my beta Lydia for the continued help and reminders to use question marks! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**TEN YEARS LATER**

The first thing Ian says when they woke up, Millie curled between their bodies and his arm flung across Mickey was, “she's graduating this week.” 

Mickey snorted. “She's getting out of grade school and going to middle school. Hardly graduating. She’s fucking eleven.” He rubbed his face into Ian’s warm chest. “More sleep please.” 

Groaning, Ian extracted himself from his sleeping husband. “Can’t, early shift. You have to take her to school today ok?” He pressed a kiss to the top of Mickey's head before getting out of their bed. Millie looked up in disdain at the interruption to her sleep, Mickey couldn't agree more. 

He watched his husband’s naked back, the slits of their bedrooms blinds shadowed across his skin. Mickey hummed softly and contemplated asking him to come back to bed _right fucking now._

Suddenly, their bedroom door was wrenched open and Annalise jumped onto the end of their bed. The bed shook under her jump, but she paid it no mind, instead, she knelt into the mattress and began to pet a very discontent Millie.

“Hey!” Ian snapped as he pulled his work uniform on. “What are the rules?” he fixed Annalise with a stern expression. She only sighed and collapsed on her back in reply. 

“Knock and wait for you to open the door before coming in.” Mickey snorted into the covers at Ian’s attempt to be authoritative, it was more Mickey's role than his. He pulled himself up and leaned against the headboard. 

“Hey, squirt, why don't you go make your breakfast and let Da and me get ready.” Annalise's head shot up and she smiled at Mickey. 

“Morning Dad! Sure!” She climbed up the bed and gave him a quick hug before she ran out the door as quickly as she came in. 

Ian finished getting ready just as Mickey pulled himself onto his chair. “Should we get a lock?” his husband thought aloud. 

Mickey smirked. “If we do, I'm installing it. Knowing you, you'll put the lock on the wrong side and she will be able to lock us in.” Ian sighed in agreement. 

The family rushed through breakfast. Annalise finished first and Mickey ordered between spoonfuls of fruit and yoghurt for her to get dressed. Ian finished second and dumped his bowl in the sink before he kissed Mickey goodbye. “Bye Anna!” he called out before the door to their apartment closed behind him. 

“Bye!” Anna yelled from her bedroom. She emerged a few minutes later fully dressed for school. “Ready, dad,” she smiled. 

Mickey’s breakfast bowl joined Ian’s in the sink. “Great. Let me grab my stuff and we can go,” he wheeled himself back into their bedroom and grabbed his wallet and phone before he joined Annalise at the front of their apartment. 

“Excited for your last week?” Annalise pulled the door open for them and he moved out into the hallway after her. 

He locked their door and they both moved down the hallway towards the elevator. 

“Yep!” her backpack bounced on her back as she ran ahead of him to send for the elevator. 

“Don't get in any trouble this week,” he joked. “Wouldn't want to ruin your perfect record.” _Unlike mine,_ Mickey thought of his own school record, which probably would have been a mile long. 

His daughter only grinned in response. The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. 

*

Since they didn't own a car, Annalise got walked to school. Luckily, it was en route to Mickey's work so most of the time it was his job to drop her off while it was Ian’s to pick her up as his shifts finished a half hour before school concluded. 

They stopped just inside the gates to the school. Parents and kids milled about. No matter how many times Mickey did this, he still got stares from other parents. Some had the great idea to come up to him after Annalise left, or _god forbid_ , while she was still standing with him, to tell him _how amazing it was that he could do this with her_ and _that it is real inspiring_. Mickey wanted to bash their heads in, but he always settled for clenching his fists and nodding before quickly departing claiming he was late for work. 

“Bye dad,” Annalise hugged him. She was tall enough now that she was about eye level with him, and Mickey loved it. Out of the two people he loved in his life he only had to crane his head to look up at one. _For now._

“Bye squirt. Da will pick you up after school, see you at home ok?” she nodded and ran towards her classmates who were grouped together and seemed to be trading something between them, looked like cards. _Better than drugs,_ his mind supplied and he grimaced at the thought. 

He escaped the school with only one mother coming up to him and saying _it was so nice to see you bring little Anna to school, you're a real hero to her_. He arrived to work without physically harming anyone, and that was an achievement in itself. 

*

When Ian picked Annalise up from school, she looked mad. Her mouth was etched into a frown and her brows drew in. She wouldn’t meet Ian’s gaze, apparently transfixed with the cement sidewalk beneath them. 

They began their walk back to the apartment in silence. They crossed two blocks before she spoke. 

“Why can't I have two real parents?” she demanded. Ian stopped in his tracks and turned to his daughter in shock. She was glaring at him with her fists clenched. Later, he would think of how much she looked like Mickey in that moment, but then all he could do was stammer out his response. 

“What do you mean?” _Proper parents?_ He briefly freaked out and wondered if they had simply forgotten to tell her about them being a gay couple, but he remembered in vivid detail sitting her down when she was eight and explaining _everything_ after she asked where her mum was. Since then they just assumed it had been her normal, some of her friends had two mums or two dads and she never raised issue with it again. Annalise cut him out of his reverie. 

“Everyone at school has proper parents, they can both walk and they are _normal_. Why can't I have that? Why is dad _broken_ and you're not? I want a normal family,” the anger in her voice was rising with every question she asked. Ian felt his own anger flare in his chest. It was also mixed with sadness, he didn’t like _anybody_ looking down on Mickey, let alone their own daughter. 

“You don't mean that. You love dad. We are a normal family,” he tried to reassure. 

“No we’re not!” she yelled. Ian flinched back, a man walking his dog across the street paused and looked at them before continuing on. _Fuck_. She continued to yell, “I want a normal family like everyone else! It's so unfair!” 

They were still standing on the practically empty sidewalk. The man and his dog had disappeared long ago. Ian looked at her, disappointment in his eyes. “So what you're saying is you don't want dad anymore? That he is the one who makes the family abnormal?” He watched his daughter's face fall. “You want dad to leave and for me to bring in another man who has working legs? Maybe a woman? That would make us normal. Would that make you happy? You would have a normal family then and be _just_ like everyone else.” Annalise’s eyes welled with tears and she hastily shook her head. 

“No-no. I don't know. _I don't know_ ,” she blabbered out. Her eyes were wide and tears began to run down her face, her hands shook at her sides as she seemed to deflate before him, the anger vanishing from her form. _What the fuck brought this on?_

“When we get back home. Go to your room. Think about how dad will feel when I tell him what you said. Dad loves you so much,” he shook his head trying to suppress the many emotions coming out of him. He knew he couldn't be too harsh on her, she was only eleven. That didn't mean he couldn't be disappointed. 

The rest of the walk home was silent. Annalise sniffled away her tears and Ian tried not to think of Mickey's face when he would tell him what had transpired.

*

Mickey came home that day to a mostly silent apartment. 

He frowned and wheeled himself towards the kitchen where he found Ian cooking dinner. His husband had a strange look on his face. 

“What's going on?” he immediately asked. “Where is Anna? She's usually watching TV right about now.” 

Ian turned towards him. He continued to stir the pot on the stove. It smelled like chicken soup but Mickey couldn't be sure. 

“She said some shit Mick, about you. Said you were broken and shit and not a real parent or something. I think kids at school got to her. I got mad and sent her to her room,” he turned the stove down and let dinner simmer. Mickey's face fell. 

“Wanted to wait until you got home. So you can help her understand,” he leaned down and pulled Mickey in for a quick kiss. “Missed you today.” 

Mickey smiled, even though his heart was clenching at the thought of his daughter thinking he was anything _less_. “Missed you too,” he turned towards their daughter’s closed bedroom door.“Let’s go deal with this shit.” 

Annalise was sitting cross-legged on top of her bed. She was scribbling into a drawing book with some cheap crayons they had got her from the dollar store. Mickey went in first, Ian stood behind him and leant against the doorframe. 

“Hey squirt,” he tried to sound calm and collected when he was _fucking not_. This had never happened before, he was _freaking the fuck out_. Annalise never freaked out about his disability before, they both just assumed it was her normal and it always would be. “What’s going on?” 

She was silent. Her scribbling grew erratic and the crayon snapped in her hand. Mickey could sense Ian flinch behind him. 

“Some kids said some stuff,” she mumbled. 

“What did they say?” Mickey encouraged. He wheeled closer to her so he was just in front of her bed. Ian followed.

“Lots of mean things,” her voice rose a little and some tears formed in her eyes. “They said I didn't have a real family because you can't walk. They told me that in their families everyone walks, nobody uses a wheelchair. They told me you were broken and I deserved a better parent.”

Mickey clenched his eyes shut willing himself not to cry. _Fuck. Ok. This was bound to happen at some point._

“Do you believe them? Do you want another dad like Da?” he tried to keep his voice even but it cracked slightly as he finished the question. Ian rubbed his hand along his back. 

“No!” she cried out. She uncrossed her legs and got up to hug him close. Her tears seeped into his shirt. “I don't want another dad. I just want you and Da. They just confused me and teased me. Please don't leave.” 

He patted her back. “I'm not going anywhere. Don't listen to what other kids say, they’re idiots.” Annalise continued to cry for a while before Mickey said he had to go and shower from work. She detached herself from him and sat back on the bed. Mickey offered her a small smile before leaving the room. Once he was in the shower he let the tears fall. _Fuck._ He had for many years been _ok_ with himself. He accepted that his life was never walking again, Ian, Annalise, work and occasional doctors check-ups, and he was fine with that. He was _happy_ with that. He often pondered how different his life would have been if he stayed with Terry, and usually came to the conclusion it would be worse. Despite the fact he was happy with himself and his life, and gave no fucks about anybody else's opinion, the thought of his daughter thinking he was _less_ than Ian as a father made his heart sink. 

*

Meanwhile, Ian stood in the doorway to Annalise’s room and looked at her in concern. 

“Anna,” she looked up with tear-stained cheeks. “We forgive you. But if you ever say something like what you said today ever again, there will be serious consequences.” 

She nodded. 

Ian offered a small smile and outstretched his hand. “Dinner is nearly ready. Come help me set the table.” 

*

The next day at work Mickey’s phone rang. It was 1 pm and his lunch break. Ian was the only one that ever called him and he was at home on his day off. He pulled his phone from his pocket and it was the school. He immediately accepted the call. 

“This is Mickey,” he said. His heart was racing. The school never called. _What the fuck was happening_. 

“Hi, Mickey. This is Kelsie from Newbridge Elementary. I’m sorry to tell you this but Annalise got into a fight today and hurt a few students. One was punched and bruised and the others have a few scrapes, nothing parents will press chargers for but our school has a strict policy. She has been suspended. Since it's the last week she can still technically graduate, she just can't attend school property or come to the ceremony from today. Are you able to come to pick her up?” 

Mickey let out a relieved sigh that his daughter could actually graduate, he did not want to hold her back from middle school another year. He tried to contain his grin at the idea of her fighting, _that's my girl_. “I'll be right there,” he spoke into the receiver. His co-workers looked up in interest. “Anna just got suspended,” he told them after putting the phone down, attempting to keep the pride out of his voice. _About fucking time._

*

He knew what they were celebrating. They all did.

The news that Annalise had gotten expelled for physically fighting with other students spread to Ian’s family, and accordingly, they threw her a _we’re so proud of you, it’s about time_ and a _happy graduation_ party. 

Ian wasn’t as thrilled at the idea of Annalise fighting. Mickey, on the other hand, thought it would be personally hypocritical for him to judge her for it since he was involved in too many to count throughout his schooling. Honestly, he was impressed she did it just before graduation and not in the middle of the school year so they didn't have to go through the pain of finding her another school. Ian still didn’t agree. 

She was playing LEGO with her cousins on the dining room table. A few of the Gallaghers loomed around in the kitchen to ensure none of them shoved one down their throat and started choking, but Mickey and Ian were enjoying their alone time together. If being in the adjacent room was considered alone. 

Ian was sitting on the living room couch with Mickey's head in his lap. They both had beers in their hands and Ian had one of his stroking through Mickey’s hair. Mickey, after a few too many beers, complained about being tired and Ian had happily offered to move him onto the couch and assumed his role as a designated pillow.

“So proud of her man,” Mickey grinned up at his husband. He hummed at the feeling of Ian’s fingers in his hair. 

“Only you would be proud of our daughter punching someone and pushing a few to the ground,” Ian laughed. 

“So proud,” was all Mickey repeated. 

They were both silent for a moment. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Ian said carefully. Mickey looked up at his husband curiously. “I think I want another kid.” 

Mickey's heart clenched. _Another kid._ Initially, he didn’t know how he felt about that, but he knew it wasn’t how he felt when Ian had mentioned it twelve years ago. He let out a careful, assured, breath. 

“I think I want that too.” 

The smile Ian sent him was enough to assuage any worries Mickey had. They had been doing _this_. This _family._ For years. It was their life and they fucking loved it. They were good at it. 

“We're still technically foster parents, we can get a kid a little older this time. Some kid like we used to be, who really needs us,” Ian looked uncertain. 

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand that was stroking through his hair and squeezed it. “I like that idea.” 

“I want you to want it this time. I know,” Ian paused in caution, “I know I pushed you with Anna. That you said yes to a lot of things for me. But I only want this if you want it. Anna will always be enough.” 

Stroking the joints of Ian’s fingers, he squeezed his husband's hand. “I want it, for real this time,” he sent Ian a soft smile, which the redhead returned in earnest. 

“Two college tuition bills though,” Ian smirked. 

“Fuck that,” Mickey groaned. “They can pay for their own college. We pay to keep them alive until they’re eighteen and that's it,” he joked. 

Ian looked thoughtful. “What about weddings? We paying for Anna’s wedding?” 

Mickey snorted. “Don’t wanna think of that shit. That’s ages away, and may never happen.” 

Ian continued with a laugh. “Mick, wait, who is gonna walk her down the aisle, huh?”

The black-haired man glared up at his husband. “You tryna be funny?” 

“Always,” Ian grinned. 

Looking up at the roof of the Gallagher living room, Mickey speculated while taking a skip of beer. “It’s weird huh. There is so much we have yet to do with her. Teenage years, first partner, weddings and graduation,” he paused. “It’s scary but I also can't wait for any of it.” 

“Me too, Mick,” Ian laughed, “and you can bet there will be a Gallagher party for most of them.” 

Suddenly Annalise ran from the kitchen to where they were laying together on the couch. 

“Dad!” she demanded. Mickey took a sip of beer, head still resting on Ian’s lap. “Yeah squirt?” 

“Can you tie my shoes up? Freddie crawled under the table and tried to tie them together but I stopped him,” she pouted but at the same time looked victorious. 

“You want me to do it?” Ian leaned forward. “Dads laying down right now so it'll be easier.” 

“No!” Annalise said sternly. “I don't want you to do it Da, I want Dad.” Ian raised his eyebrows in amusement and sat back with his hands raised in retreat. 

Mickey groaned and handed Ian his beer. He tapped his chest so he didn't have to get up. “Chuck em here.” 

Annalise happily kicked her left leg up and rested her foot on Mickey’s chest. She was wearing bright green converse. Mickey began to tye the shoe’s knot. 

“We've taught you how to tie your own shoes,” he softly chastised before he motioned for her right foot. 

“I know,” Annalise chirped. “But I like when you do it.” 

He finished tying the knot. Annalise grinned and gave him a hug before she ran back into the kitchen. Mickey's heart soured and Ian handed him back his beer. 

“Fuckin’ Gallagher parties man,” he laughed and reached for Ian’s hand again. He rubbed his fingers against his husband’s knuckles. “Love ya.” 

Ian smiled down at him lovingly. “Love you too.”

Mickey let his thoughts drift. He thought of the accident all those years ago. Of living with Terry for those few weeks. Of the shelter. Of his years without Ian. He thought of Ian proposing at a party much like this one, and later admitting to wanting kids. He thought of the phone call telling them about a baby who needed them and her first words, her first day of school. He thought of Annalise in the kitchen trying to get Freddie to swallow LEGO and Millie the three-legged cat sleeping in the darkness of their apartment. 

**_He just didn’t know how to feel about the whole thing. Family ... seeing it fulfilled in the traditional sense right before his eyes made him question if it was less of a family but a mismatched life they had built together._ **

He thought of it all, and felt content.

  
  



End file.
